Because... That's why.
Why's there so much narcissism in the world?
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Circle_Something
Over 90 days ago
United Kingdom
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One cannot catch a unicorn. No, it either must be sought out, or summoned. In most unicorn myths, there is only one unicorn in the world, and that unicorn has the power to heal. By giving its horn, it dies, but is resurrected, thus the soul of the unicorn is immortal. You have to be worthy, though, the unicorn won't just give its life for any yob. That's where the quest comes in. That's how one would catch a unicorn.
Now that we've established that unicorns are difficult to catch, just exactly how difficult is it to catch a monkey?
Now that we've established that unicorns are difficult to catch, just exactly how difficult is it to catch a monkey?
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Maybe you've got it backwards, maybe you're sad when it rains. I know I'm happy when it rains, and when I'm sad, I don't pay any mind to anything.
Have you ever walked up to someone, given them a compliment, and walked away without stopping to see their reaction?
Have you ever walked up to someone, given them a compliment, and walked away without stopping to see their reaction?
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hitherto - /hɪðəˈtuː,ˈhɪðətuː/
adverb
1. until now or until the point in time under discussion.
The simple reason is because I like it. I first read it in an Edgar Allan Poe story, and fell in love with the word. It sounds more complicated than it actually is.
adverb
1. until now or until the point in time under discussion.
The simple reason is because I like it. I first read it in an Edgar Allan Poe story, and fell in love with the word. It sounds more complicated than it actually is.
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Ah, well... Full moons occur when there's a lot of people wanting to populate it. This seems to have happened to our moon, and you can't even swing a cat on that place! I tried to get a parking space on the moon, but I had to go to Pluto instead. Have you seen Pluto? That place is a mess! Much more crowded than our moon.
What's your favourite planet, and what's its back story?
What's your favourite planet, and what's its back story?
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Make a choice, choose to
be happy, quit whinging, or
you'll go insane, m'kay?
be happy, quit whinging, or
you'll go insane, m'kay?
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Chocolate and a quote from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The episode is called When She Was Bad, and Buffy had just returned from running away. Xander asked her "did you go to Belgium?" Buffy, nonplussed, replied "no, why would I go to Belgium?" And Xander replies "because... Belgium!"
Scotland.
Scotland.
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Quote by paulus
Nope, but I might, if someone explained its meaning to me.
Your wish is my command. Floccinaucinihilipilification: To estimate something as useless. Pronounced Flocky-nocky-nihili-pil-if-ication.
I wouldn't beat a mule ever.
What was the last thing that got you truly excited?
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Nope because the wee shite would climb up there, it is an assassin, after all. What I would do, is find some fish, and throw it in the vague direction of said assassin kitten.
Has anyone ever actually tried using "floccinaucinihilipilification" in a serious sentence, one where weren't trying to impress folk?
Has anyone ever actually tried using "floccinaucinihilipilification" in a serious sentence, one where weren't trying to impress folk?
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The Vengeance Trilogy (Lady Vengeance, Oldboy, Mr Vengeance)
Disney's Aladdin
The Green Mile
(Not a movie, but a TV series) Tsukuyomi: Moon Phase.
Disney's Aladdin
The Green Mile
(Not a movie, but a TV series) Tsukuyomi: Moon Phase.
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Oh, toast! I was going to have some toast sometime this week, but there wasn't any bread, so I had to starve. Well, not starve, but I had to go through a toast famine. That wasn't good.
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The Child Who Was Wild by Michael Rosen
Once there was a woman, a young, young woman
She ran from the city, the old, old city
She ran to the woods, the deep dark woods
She wasn’t seen for days. Days, weeks and months.
She came out of the woods, the deep dark woods
She came with a child, a child who was wild.
She brought the child to the city, the old, old city
He grew and he grew and he grew and he grew
Out of his hands grew shoots: green shoots and leaves
Out of his shoulders grew the lily and the rose
His hair was the blossom that blows in the wind,
He stood in the city, the old, old city
with the leaves and the flowers and the blossom
falling, falling, falling on grey, grey gravel.
Once there was a woman, a young, young woman
She ran from the city, the old, old city
She ran to the woods, the deep dark woods
She wasn’t seen for days. Days, weeks and months.
She came out of the woods, the deep dark woods
She came with a child, a child who was wild.
She brought the child to the city, the old, old city
He grew and he grew and he grew and he grew
Out of his hands grew shoots: green shoots and leaves
Out of his shoulders grew the lily and the rose
His hair was the blossom that blows in the wind,
He stood in the city, the old, old city
with the leaves and the flowers and the blossom
falling, falling, falling on grey, grey gravel.
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Kitten! I love you so very much,
you make me feel all weird and such,
this lovely feeling,
is just like healing,
and I don't know
what the last line should be.
you make me feel all weird and such,
this lovely feeling,
is just like healing,
and I don't know
what the last line should be.
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Yes, my favourite bird is the raven. Or maybe the magpie, simply because they're so mischievous.
How fast does a fly swallow?
How fast does a fly swallow?
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A Poem Best Taken With a Bucket of Salt:
Oh, rather woe!
The chairman cancelled the show.
Said it was boring,
and now he's under
my solid oak flooring.
Oh, rather woe!
The chairman cancelled the show.
Said it was boring,
and now he's under
my solid oak flooring.
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It depends where I am in the house. If I'm in a communal area, I wear jeans and t-shirt (and a pair cat ears at the weekend), but if I'm in my own quarters, I'll just wear nothing. I'd be naked no matter where, if it wasn't for the thought of offending eyeballs.
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Sure, why not? Everyone's gotta like being stoned! (No, I didn't misinterpret the question; I'm being silly.)
Do you like digging?
Do you like digging?
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Hiking, for I see jogging as rather... Silly.
Based purely on the tag lines, which movie would you choose between: "Stealing stones and breaking bones" and "There is no justice without sin"? (And don't go cheating, and looking them up before you decide! After is fine, though.)
Based purely on the tag lines, which movie would you choose between: "Stealing stones and breaking bones" and "There is no justice without sin"? (And don't go cheating, and looking them up before you decide! After is fine, though.)
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Normal.
Throwing a boomerang, only to have it come back and whack you in the face.
Throwing a boomerang, only to have it come back and whack you in the face.
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Roland, Roland, Roland, keep those wagons Roland... Rawhide! Wait, no, wrong genre... This man is a sailor man! And a very kind one, too. There was this one time, a long time ago, when he helped me out of a right jam I was in. You see, my boat was sinking, and I had nowhere to go. He came along with his giant frigate, and fished me out of the high seas. He then gave me a tow and got me back to shoreside. That was a fun day, despite the nearly sinking part, and afterwards, he even visited me. We mended my boat together then had tea and scones. For a man of the sea, he can be quite the landlubber.
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Granted, but they'ye not your favourite tasty morsels.
I wish I could play bass like John Deacon.
I wish I could play bass like John Deacon.
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Please would be a great word of the day. Some people overuse it, like we tend to in Britain, some don't use it enough, but it's amazing that one wee word can change everything. It's nice to be nice, and that is why it is my word of the day. And here is a link to its meaning:
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/please
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/please
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Quote by Colors_of_the_WindQuote by gypsyQuote by Circle_Something
Can you imagine if pirates liked toast instead of rum? They'd probably be less bloodthirsty, you know, not being drunk all the time.
They'd probably end up being tea-thirsty, to wash down all that toast.
So long as they brew it properly and treat it with the respect it deserves, I don't think I'd mind tea-thirsty pirates. (there needs to be a pirate emoticon... or a tea emoticon... or both).
I can just imagine tea-drinking pirates, having wee tea parties, complete with biscuits and cakes. I wonder if the (p) emoticon works the the forum? Hmm, we shall see.
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I'll start with my least favourite. Her name was Miss MacAulay (or however the stupid bitch spelled her name). She was my primary 1 teacher (I was 5 years old). She bullied me, quite simply. When I got into a confrontation with people, she'd punish me, which was fair enough, but she never actually investigated the cause of it. Sure, I wasn't perfect, but most of the time when I stepped out of line, I was reacting to being bullied, for example. She'd tattle on me to my mum for stupid things, like swinging my jacket around at playtime. We all did silly things, but it was always me who got it. She was actually a really bad teacher, too. Never explained anything, and just had the hugest chip on her shoulder. I called her MacAulay-faced-flower, though never to her face.
There was one time I was playing with... Uh, well, I don't know the name for it, but it was square, had holes in it and you had to put a lace through the holes. I suppose it was supposed to teach you how to lace and tie your shoes, but I could do that by the time I was three. Anyway, she decided to take it off me and gave me something else, goodness knows what. When I started crying, she told me not to be a baby, and that the toy I has previously been playing with was not only too advanced for me, but was for girls.
The other time that sticks out for me, was when I wanted a reading book. I saw everyone else in the class getting one, but according to the teacher, I wasn't ready for one. She told that to my mum, and refused to give me a reading book, so my mum took matters into her own hands. Bear in mind, this was about 1990, before the internet was really affordable, so any research had to be done the hard way. My mum went to the book shop, browsed for hours on end, went to the library, did the same, and then eventually found the right book for me. I read it, and was extremely proud when I got through the whole lot. When my teacher gave me a book, two or three weeks later, she was surprised by my reading skill. The book she gave me, I completed within a few minutes. When she talked to my mum about it, my mum showed her the book that I was reading, which was called The Big Red Bus, and the teacher was furious. She tried to take the book away from my mum, and my mum... Well, she's wee and bloody well feisty, that's about all you really need to know. She kicked her arse. After that day, the teacher never bothered me.
So, now on to my favourite teacher. She was my teacher in primary 7 (12 years old). I had quite a big love/hate relationship with her. She could be a right battleaxe at times, which is why I called her Slavedriver Jones. It stuck with my classmates, too. The thing about Slavedriver Jones was that she cared about me. She was about the only teacher who actually took the time to get to know me and to try to understand me. I remember her breath always smelled of coffee, mostly because we had so many one-to-one chats. Unlike the other teachers, she actually talked to me, rather than at me. My handwriting was always something that teachers brought up. Yes, it was pretty terrible, but it was mostly their faults. You see, after a couple of years of being told that my handwriting was terrible, and having it compared to Hieroglyphs, I simply gave up trying to improve it. It was the only thing that I ever gave up on... Until Miss Jones.
Being an eccentric artist (more about that later), she was somewhat of a perfectionist, but she wasn't obnoxious about it. She watched me writing, and taught me to slow down, told me to try and write individual letters. At that point, people were learning joined up writing, but it was like I was going back to basics. She took the time, re-taught me how to write.
She saw herself in me, and I suppose that's one of the reasons she helped me so much. It wasn't just me she helped, though. She was the type of teacher who would always let you know where you stood with her. If she was pissed off at you, disappointed or happy, you'd know. As I mentioned earlier, she was eccentric. One parent's evening, she told my mum that she found me eccentric. At first, my mum was shocked, but the more she thought about it, the more she understood that Miss Jones didn't mean anything bad by it - it was, in fact, a compliment. I left primary school feeling confident, and it was mostly because of Miss Jones.
I think an honourable mention must go to Mr Torrance. He was my biology teacher. He was a bit of an oddball, but he was pretty cool, too. One time, I stole a notepad, and he gave me a punishment - he made me varnish a table. Abstract, and very unorthodox, it allowed us to talk. In the end, he let me keep the notebook, and now it is one of my book of shadows.
Of course, I can't forget my mum. Hell, where would I be without her? She taught me a hell of a lot more that I could ever mention here. Yes, I'm a soppy wee Kitty, so I'll say: I love all my teachers (apart from MacAulay-faced-flower!)
There was one time I was playing with... Uh, well, I don't know the name for it, but it was square, had holes in it and you had to put a lace through the holes. I suppose it was supposed to teach you how to lace and tie your shoes, but I could do that by the time I was three. Anyway, she decided to take it off me and gave me something else, goodness knows what. When I started crying, she told me not to be a baby, and that the toy I has previously been playing with was not only too advanced for me, but was for girls.
The other time that sticks out for me, was when I wanted a reading book. I saw everyone else in the class getting one, but according to the teacher, I wasn't ready for one. She told that to my mum, and refused to give me a reading book, so my mum took matters into her own hands. Bear in mind, this was about 1990, before the internet was really affordable, so any research had to be done the hard way. My mum went to the book shop, browsed for hours on end, went to the library, did the same, and then eventually found the right book for me. I read it, and was extremely proud when I got through the whole lot. When my teacher gave me a book, two or three weeks later, she was surprised by my reading skill. The book she gave me, I completed within a few minutes. When she talked to my mum about it, my mum showed her the book that I was reading, which was called The Big Red Bus, and the teacher was furious. She tried to take the book away from my mum, and my mum... Well, she's wee and bloody well feisty, that's about all you really need to know. She kicked her arse. After that day, the teacher never bothered me.
So, now on to my favourite teacher. She was my teacher in primary 7 (12 years old). I had quite a big love/hate relationship with her. She could be a right battleaxe at times, which is why I called her Slavedriver Jones. It stuck with my classmates, too. The thing about Slavedriver Jones was that she cared about me. She was about the only teacher who actually took the time to get to know me and to try to understand me. I remember her breath always smelled of coffee, mostly because we had so many one-to-one chats. Unlike the other teachers, she actually talked to me, rather than at me. My handwriting was always something that teachers brought up. Yes, it was pretty terrible, but it was mostly their faults. You see, after a couple of years of being told that my handwriting was terrible, and having it compared to Hieroglyphs, I simply gave up trying to improve it. It was the only thing that I ever gave up on... Until Miss Jones.
Being an eccentric artist (more about that later), she was somewhat of a perfectionist, but she wasn't obnoxious about it. She watched me writing, and taught me to slow down, told me to try and write individual letters. At that point, people were learning joined up writing, but it was like I was going back to basics. She took the time, re-taught me how to write.
She saw herself in me, and I suppose that's one of the reasons she helped me so much. It wasn't just me she helped, though. She was the type of teacher who would always let you know where you stood with her. If she was pissed off at you, disappointed or happy, you'd know. As I mentioned earlier, she was eccentric. One parent's evening, she told my mum that she found me eccentric. At first, my mum was shocked, but the more she thought about it, the more she understood that Miss Jones didn't mean anything bad by it - it was, in fact, a compliment. I left primary school feeling confident, and it was mostly because of Miss Jones.
I think an honourable mention must go to Mr Torrance. He was my biology teacher. He was a bit of an oddball, but he was pretty cool, too. One time, I stole a notepad, and he gave me a punishment - he made me varnish a table. Abstract, and very unorthodox, it allowed us to talk. In the end, he let me keep the notebook, and now it is one of my book of shadows.
Of course, I can't forget my mum. Hell, where would I be without her? She taught me a hell of a lot more that I could ever mention here. Yes, I'm a soppy wee Kitty, so I'll say: I love all my teachers (apart from MacAulay-faced-flower!)
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Frustrating.
That moment when you walk into a room and forget why you walked in, so walk out and back in, then remember why you originally went in.
That moment when you walk into a room and forget why you walked in, so walk out and back in, then remember why you originally went in.
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All day, but different types of tea for different parts of the day, and different purposes. So, if I want to be relaxed, I'll have some Chai, that's usually a bedtime tea. If I want to be invigorated, I'll have some Lapsang Souchong, which is usually a lunchtime tea. For general hydration, normal 'builders tea' will do.
Coffee, this time: Milky and frothy or strong and un-frothy?
Coffee, this time: Milky and frothy or strong and un-frothy?
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Mug, preferably bone China. I honestly can't go back to ceramic. If a mug isn't available, then I'll have a cup and saucer.
Still on the subject of tea: Strong or weak or somewhere in between?
Still on the subject of tea: Strong or weak or somewhere in between?